Minor Details
by JanetJones
Summary: There has always been something extraordinary about Hermione. From being initial sorted Slytherin, to being found again in Gryffindor, Hermione must come to turns with what it means to be both courageous and cunning. It starts with an obliviate, and hopefully ends with a kiss.
1. Chapter 1

The Hufflepuffs chatted among themselves, the Ravenclaws cheered as a new student walked over to his new housemates, and the Gryffindors stared down the poor girl that was chosen to be a Slytherin. Hermione didn't know what she had done wrong; why were these people staring at her with such hate in there eyes? "Gryffindor!", the sorting hat called, and for a moment all she could hear was cheering and laughter. She watched as Harry Potter walked down to his house, looking rather relieved. She was sure she would have been a Gryffindor, she was brave, kind, and smart. Did she really mistake those qualities for cunning, insightful, and ruthless? A sigh escaped her lips and she found herself staring off into the distance.

A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her day dreams. She turned to see a blond haired boy seated next to her, with a rather alarming smirk on his face. "The names Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.", the boy said, watching her eyes grow with recognition. His smirk grew even bigger, he loved being recognized. People should fear the Malfoy name, they should respect it.

"My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger.", she squeaked out. Draco was confused for a moment, wondering where in the world this witch came from. He had never heard of any other Grangers. He let the topic drop though, not wanting to dwell on such a mundane thing.

"I think we are going to be very, very good friends.", he said, looking deeply into her eyes. He was going to make this bushy haired girl into something horrible, something that he could only describe as his.

V

It seemed as though every year was the same, or at least that is what it felt like to Hermione. Today was the beginning of her fourth year at Hogwarts, and she was getting pretty sick of it. She sat next to Draco, if she were to put a label on him, she'd say they were friends with benefits. It's not as though they did any thing particular with each other, but rather used each other to get whatever they wanted. It was a mutual relationship, built from respect that they both felt for the other. Draco was staring at the Gryffindor table again, no doubt at Harry Potter. Again and again, Potter proved himself to be a legend, though Hermione knew it was all pure luck. If it hadn't been for her, he and his friend Ronald Weasley would have been dead by now. She could only recall how many time she had saved their arses at the request of Draco. For someone who wished Potter to be dead, he was trying rather hard to keep him alive. Draco took Hermione's hand and brought it to his lips, inhaling the scent that was pure Hermione. Over the years he had become infatuated with her. With the help of one Pansy Parkinson, Hermione had grown into a beautiful Slytherin Princess. He pulled her towards him, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and waiting for the day she would do so back.

VV

"Hermione!", Potter called, willing her to slow down.

_I bet a million muggle dollars he needs to borrow my Potions notes._ Hermione thought darkly to herself.

"Can I borrow your notes from Potions?", he smiled. Something about this boy seemed wrong. They were in rival houses, and he treated everyone other than her with extreme distaste. Was it because they had met on the train before they had been sorted? Or the fact that she had saved his life too many times to count? She sighed and reached for the notes in her bag, handing them to him before walking briskly away towards the Slytherin common room: she had a free period.

She whispered the password, "_Anguis_.", and entered the dormitory. Draco lay on one of the couches, waiting for her.

"So, sweet Hermione, what are we going to do today?", he purred. Hermione knew that the rest of the school thought that she and Draco were involved, but she had never been able to discern if her feelings for him were truly romantic, or just a product of comfort. She had also seen all the girls he had been with, and while it did not bother her, it did make her question his taste. Nethertheless, she scooted next to him on the sofa, pulling his head into her lap.

"I think I'm in need of a nap.", she yawned, watching her house mates skitter about. She shivered slightly, and Draco took that as his cue to sit and snuggle closer to her. She relaxed into his touch. Draco thoughtfully traced the scar that began by her right eyebrow to the base of her neck. Her hair covered it normally, but he sought it out, imagining someday tracing all the scars on her body with his fingers, reading her like a map.

Draco closed his eyes and fell into a light slumber, his head falling on the shoulder of his companion, but before he could do anything, he heard, or rather felt, the stone wall that led into the common room shifting open. Not thinking much of it, his eyes stayed closed.

"Draco", a loud, commanding, and somewhat familiar voice spoke to him, "if you could please detach yourself from the mudblood, I could very well be on my way in mere moments." Mudblood? Where? Draco's eyes searched the room, but the only ones here were Hermione and himself... and his father. Looking at Hermiones sleeping form next to him, he realized that they had never really discussed the topic of her blood, for he simply assumed she was from a pure blood family, being in Slytherin. Things started to click into place, like the muggle money he had once found in her trunk, and the weird pens that she had been pushing him to use.

"Get up.", Lucius said more forcefully, moving to pull Hermione off of him. Draco rose in front of her, watch as she fell off of the ground, wiping the sleep from her eyes. One she registered what was going on, she began to shake. She knew the man before her was a Death Eater, and that he knew more spells that would hurt her than anyone in the world.

"Father! That's Hermione!", Draco sneered, taking out his wand to protect her from anymore harm. He couldn't let Hermione be hurt, though the thought of her being a muggleborn very much confused him. He heard Hermione whimper, and looked down into her eyes. Could this girl really be muggleborn? He supposed she could. He also supposed he should be bothered by this, but wasn't.

"Draco move. Let me finish this.", his father sneered. He didn't have time for games. With a flick of his wand, Draco was on the other side of the room. His wand rolled out of his hand.

"Father, stop!", Draco yelled, momentarilly dazed and unable to move. He needed to do something. This was his Hermione!

"We'll talk about this later, Draco.", and with that, Lucius yelled, "Obliviate!"

As Hermione's world went black, Draco's began to crumble.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco was quiet for a very long time. His voice was more than simply 'momenatrily lost'. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring his discarded wand, and pulled Hermione into his lap. He looked up at his father with a certain innocence in his eyes.

"You just can't waltz in here and hex people. You have less than two minutes before one of the Professors gets here and, I don't know, throws you out for attacking a student. I hear that sort of behavior isn't really welcome here.", Draco whispered, his focus back on Hermione, thinking of the lie he would have to tell Madam Pomfrey... something about Hermione falling down and knocking herself unconscious. He knew the woman wouldn't believe him, but she would take Hermione into her care anyways.

"He calls for you, Draco.", and with a flutter of his robes, Lucius was gone. Draco kneeled paralyzed for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only about a minute. Snape rushed in with his wand ready looking for a man who was already gone. He let out a hiss, knowing that he had failed. Wherever Lucius had disappeared to, he knew that he wouldn't be back anytime soon. Snape's eyes slowly drifted to the silent and still Draco, a look of horror on his face.

"She's not going to remember me at all.", the words fell off Draco's lips, almost as if they were testing the waters, seeing whether it was safe to continue. His eyes traveled the length of Hermiones body, looking for any noticeable damage. Finding none, he lifted her carefully and began the long walk to the infirmary, not sparing his professor a second glance. The fire was out, the couches thrown about, and papers were everywhere. Whether or not he wanted to believe it, he saw the evidence before him.

Draco made his decision while trudging up the stairs. He wouldn't go near her. He would distance himself so that this never happened again.

Snape followed the distraught boy and narrowed his eyes at any students who had the audacity to gawk as Draco stumbled along with a unconcious Hermione in his arms.

"I suggest you go take a nice rest, I'll alert the other professors that you won't be in class today.", Snape said once Draco has set Hermione down onto the cot.

After Dracos hasty explanation of what happened, that Hermione had taken a nasty fall, and he has departed, Snape snarled, "This wasn't some fall, though I suspect you already knew that. Her memory has been tampered with."

Poppy Pomfrey looked at Snape with indecision written all over her face. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what was erased. Was it her whole memory? Her time at Hogwarts?

"Severus, we need to know what's been erased. Will she remember anyone? Or was it one specific thing that was erased? We can't go ahead until that's made clear."

"I believe it was just the boy, though you are correct. We can't have her walking into school with just the memory of one person erased. She'd be too confused. I think you know what we need to do.

And then, for the second time that day, "Obliviate!"

Poppy felt she did as she should, but still worried for the still girl. When she woke up, she was in for a big surprise.

VVVV

Hermione walked through the great corridors of Hogwarts; this was something she remembered: wandering around aimlessly. She sighed and made her way to the Great Hall, there was no reason for her to avoid it any longer. Upon entering, Hermione wished to see a familiar face, though found none, and made her way to the lone chair at the front of the room. She was stared at by many: some in wonder, some in hate, and some in confusion.

"We are gathered here not only for dinner, but for the sorting of our very own Hermione Granger!", Dumbledore chuckled. Hermione liked him. His smile, wit, and overall happiness was enough to make a sad puppy wag its tail.

Hermione waited for the hat to be set atop her head. The moment it touched she let put a breath she didn't know she was holding, and regained her composure. This wasn't anything she had to be nervous about; she saw friendly faces from all of the tables.

"Ah! A sharp mind, a nice smile, and a wanting to learn! And what's this? Courage? Bravery? Why are you brave? You have no idea who you are.", the hat drawled on to her.

"I am Hermione Granger and I am not scared because this is Hogwarts. I know Hogwarts is safe, so there is no reason for me to be afraid.", she replied.

"You have no reason to believe Hogwarts is safe. I commend your bravery, though I warn you to stay sharp.", the hat whispered to her, and with a breathe, shouted Gryffindor for all others to hear.

The room was silent for a moment, as the information trickled into the minds of her classmates and professors, but it was not long before the Gryffindor table burst into applause, welcoming Hermione to their house.

She made her way over slowly, and sat down by herself, though that didn't last too long. Two unknown, though obviously excited, boys plopped down next to her.

"My name is Harry, and this is Ron! We were friends before!", the excited boy with the green eyes chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I know who you two are.", she said smoothly. She had been told that she helped these two out many times, but couldn't remember anything about them. She felt a pair of eyes on her and turned around to see a blond boy staring at her from across the room. Hermione was startled, she took in his face and her worries went away. There was an air of mystery about him, like she knew who he was but couldn't place him.

"Who is that?", Hermione asked, turning around to a look at Harry and Ron.

"You don't remember?", Ron asked, continuing when he saw Hermione's smile turn into a regretful frown, "That's Draco Malfoy." The last part sounded very cynical, it was obvious that Ron did not like this Draco character, and Hermione could only wonder why.

As if he read her mind, Harry said, "He's a Slytherin, and not a very nice one at that. We don't get along very well with most of them."

A question she had never thought of asking popped into Hermione's head.

"What house was I in before?"

Harry's eyes went to hers, and he slowly said the answer that she already knew.

"Slytherin."

"Were we friends?", Hermione gulped, silently wishing that they were, though she didn't know why. The boys cold eyes had pierced through her, and she felt as though maybe he might be able to help her find out who she was.

Harry looked at Ron and nodded.

"No. You guys weren't very close.", Ron said, looking away from her. She felt as though they were hiding something from her, but how would she know? She couldn't remember the boy at all. She chose to trust the boys at her side, for she knew from what she was told that they were once friends.

Hermione decided there was no harm in sneaking peeks at the boy, who, though he didn't look her way again, she was certain was in someway involved with her post-Obliviation self.

When he stood to leave, Hermione hid her eyes, looking away just as he looked back, grateful that he could see her with a smile upon her face once again. Had Hermione decided to catch one last glance at the boy, she would have noted the look in his eye: like he was in such pain, as though he were longing for something that was long dead.

After having left the Great Hall, Draco rushed to the Slytherin dormitory, wanting nothing more than to punch Weasel in the face for lying about his relationship with Hermione. The charm he had placed on himself was successful, he could hear every word that they were saying. The quiet seemed to take over him as he collapsed onto one of the green couches, remembering the times he had held Hermione and waited for the day for her to hold him back. Sighing, he closed his eyes and wished for nightmares, because all his dreams included the one brown-haired witch that he would never have.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed, then weeks, and Hermione still could not place the mysterious boy. She had tried seeking him out, but he evaded her every move. The holidays were approaching, and she chose to stay at Hogwarts. She wasn't ready to face her parents; what if they didn't like this new her?

This year was special, it was the year of the TriWizard Tournament. Harry's name had been chosen by the cup, a fact that had surprised everyone. Some were angry, some were confused, and some were just disgusted. Hermione was part of the confused crowd, though she admitted to being confused about everything. One thing Hermione was sure of, was that the spiteful article written by Rita Skeeter was the most untrue thing she had ever come across. The woman has made it seem as though she and Harry were in love; and that she was playing with his feelings and Viktor Krum's (who had asked her to the Yule Ball; she had accepted, for she really did like Viktor).

Ron was angry with her for accepting, and she was angry with him for being such a bloody fool and not asking her himself. Hermione sighed and for the millionth time she wished to regain her memory, but so far nothing came of it.

The library was quiet as Hermione looked at the shelves longingly. She looked down at the essay she was supposed to be writing for Potions. Keyword: supposed. She hadn't even started, and it was due in less than a week.

Draco picked a book off the shelf and looked around, he heard someone grumbling and was curious about who was at the library this late, normally he was the only one that came here around this time. He came upon a baffled and clearly annoyed Hermione, who, to his annoyance, looked up before he could walk away, catching him in his spying.

"My name is Hermione.", she chirped, looking at him peculiarly.

"Umm. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.", he stuttered.

"I heard that we used to be in the same house.", she drawled. Hermione had wanted to talk to this boy since her first day in the Great Hall, his avoiding her had only made her crave it even more. He must know something about her, about how she was.

"Yeah, we were.", he answered stiffly, earning a frown from Hermione.

"Were we close?", she whispered, feeling that it was true, but uncertain of her words at the same time.

Draco looked everywhere but her face, "No."

She saw through his lie and sighed. Was he ashamed of her? Because she was a Gryffindor now?

"Do you know what I was like at least?"

He pondered this, and answered her honestly, "You were the sweetest Slytherin I had ever met."

She looked up at him and smiled. It hurt Hermione more than she was willing to admit that she couldn't remember anything about who she was. Some students looked at her with such hate in their eyes, and she would never know what she did to put it there.

"If you'd like, you could join me.", Hermione gestured to a table a few steps away, "I'd like to talk to you some more.".

"I suppose that would be acceptable.", Draco muttered, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. Hermione followed suit and set her bag on the ground, pulling out some parchment, a quill, and some ink.

"Do you know what my favorite subject was?", Hermione said rather suddenly.

"Arithmancy.", Draco answered matter o' factly, only furthering Hermione's suspicions. He had known her, and she assumed they were close. Not ever Harry had known what her favorite class was. She dipped her quill in her ink and a small smile made its way onto her face. She rather liked talking to Draco.

"How are you liking Hogwarts?", Draco mused, fighting the urge to take her hand in his own.

"I wish I had never lost my memory, these last few months have been nothing but hard work and frustration.", she spit out, happy to have someone to confide in. She trusted the boy, because even though she knew it shouldn't, it felt like they had known each other for years and not minutes on her part.

"I suppose helping Potter and Weasel would get tiring, and then there's your boyfriend.", Draco couldn't help but sneer. He had been her friend and confidant for years and Krum got her in less than a few months.

"Who's my boyfriend?", Hermione squeaked. She wasn't seeing anyone, and if he was referring to Viktor, they were only friends.

"Well Krum of course. He's been talking about taking you to the ball for weeks."

"Viktor is nothing more than a friend, that I can assure you of.", Hermione said cooly. Her feelings for Viktor were far from romantic. She blushed when she saw Draco's sneer turn into a smirk. He was clearly pleased.

"Are you really muggle born?", the question burst out of Draco's mouth, he hadn't meant to ask it, or at least not for quite some while.

"Yes. I am, what does it matter?", she asked him shyly.

Draco had forgotten for a moment that her memory had been erased. She didn't remember the prejudices and how she would never be accepted by any respectable pure blood families.

_Thats how you got into this situation, Hermione. You're a muggle born, I'm a pure blood, and my father is a selfish bastard_. Draco thought to himself, looking over at Hermione and putting on a fake smile.

"It doesn't matter at all. I was just curious.", he stood and looked down at her, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm expected back in the Slytherin common room soon."

With a wave of his hand, he turned around and briskly walked away, not looking back to see whether she waved back.

Hermione set down her quill and stared off in the direction that he left. She already missed the strange Slytherin.

VV

Hermione stepped into her dress, looking down at her feet nervously as Pavarti zipped it for her. Lavender and Pavarti had helped her with the beautification process for the Yule Ball. In only two short hours, Hermione would be with Viktor, dancing to her heart's content.

She sat down and Lavender started working on her hair. The end result was a beautiful half up/half down look. Hermione was shocked that the person in the mirror was indeed herself. Pavarti sat her down again and began to work on her makeup. Hermione realized that she had never put so much work into her appearance as she had that night, and probably wouldn't ever again, with the exception of her wedding day.

About twenty minutes later, Pavarti pulled away and smiled.

"Its perfect. You look so incredibly beautiful, Hermione."

Lavender walked over, she had just finished her own makeup and looked down at Hermione, who was still blushing from Pavarti's compliment.

"Dear, every boy will want to dance with you. And probably a few girls too.", Lavender winked. Hermione nervously laughed, though it sounded more like a cough. She walked as gracefully as she could down to the common room entrance, and began to wait for Viktor...

V

Viktor walked Hermione down to the Great Hall, which was doubling as the ball room. All eyes were on the couple as Viktor led Hermione to the middle of the dance floor. They started dancing, even though there was no music. Hermione laughed and let Viktor pull her close. The music started and other couples ventured onto the dance floor. No one was particularly good, but they also weren't horrendous.

"You look beautiful.", Viktor whispered into her ear, his heavy accent making it sound like he said 'yew luek bewteafool'.

"And you look like a handsome devil.", Hermione chuckled, pulling herself away from Viktor, a playful look in her eyes.

The couple seemed to be frighteningly unaware of all the attention that they were getting. Hermione was on the receiving end of many jealous glares, just as Viktor was getting looks that could kill. The other couples seemed painfully aware that they were just decorations, only there to make the couple of the night look even more magical.

The couple danced and twirled and laughed, encouraging others to join them. Hermione eventually pulled Harry out of his seat and forced him to dance with her. Envy was rolling off of the entire crowd as Harry put his arms around the beautiful witch. It was as though she put a spell on everyone. While she had been forced to forget, the witches and wizards around her were forced to remember.

Horrible Slytherin snob Hermione dancing with the-Boy-Who-Lived? Preposterous. Who was this new Gryffindor girl?

Ron sat watching his best friend dance with the new-found sweetheart and considered many things. In the end, he came to the conclusion that this was just who Hermione was without Malfoy. A life without hate and disdain was exactly what this seemingly perfect girl needed.

For a moment, he was strangely jealous of the book-worm. Would he be that happy if his memories were stolen from him?

Draco Malfoy was thinking the same sort of thoughts that Ron was. Perhaps he was the thing that was hiding this world of happiness away from Hermione. He knew not what to think of this new Hermione. He saw so many things that made his heart leap. She still walked with the same certainty that she used to, as though she thought it impossible to fail. Her laugh still sounded like tinkling bells, though the sharp sarcastic edge had been replaced by a softness that he could not describe.

He yearned for his Hermione. He missed her, and sometimes the longing he felt took his breath away.

The girl who seemed to be stealing everyone's breathes away looked over at the lonely Slytherin prince, and instantly felt out-of-place in Harry's arms. Would he accept her invitation to dance?

Who was this boy that watched her as though his life depended on seeing her smile?

Harry saw Hermione's eyes drift away from him. He turned his head slightly, just trying to sneak a peek at what she seemed so entranced by. He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised to see her sneaking peeks at Malfoy, though he desperately wished that she wouldn't.

He knew that this witch had the potential to be great from the moment he first laid eyes on that bushy head of hair. When he was younger, he used to wonder if her hair was that wild because of all the information that was stored inside that head of hers. It needed more room, so it poured into her hair.

That was before Malfoy had changed her, though. The change was subtle. He helped her tame her hair, taught her how to defend herself from others, and closed her heart (which was a pity, because Harry knew that Malfoy always wished to have a place in Hermione's heart).

Perhaps this was his chance.

His arms tightened around his friend, out of shock and fear. What if Malfoy decided to make a move? Hermione was too valuable to Harry. He refused to let anything hurt her, and subconsciously knew that this was all Draco's fault.

Hermione pushed away from Harry, a pleading look in her eyes, and went to seek out the Slytherin. He couldn't stop her. He knew that.

Draco watched Hermione approach, and his skin started to itch. It had been weeks since that blessed encounter in the library, and he didn't know if he was prepared to talk to her again.

She was so different.

"Care to dance?", Hermione asked in a shaky voice, something that Draco had never heard before. No, this was not his Hermione. This was just someone new, someone who he didn't know.

He figured that she may be better this way than she was before.

He took the hand of the bushy haired, happy-as-ever witch and pulled her close. The music had slowed; Draco found that it hurt to hold her. It felt so natural and so wrong.

It felt so dangerous.

Draco felt as though all eyes were on him. He could feel the judgement rolling off of his fellow Slytherins, for they all now knew Hermione's true blood status, and their loyalty only went so far for their old friend. Hermione seemed oblivious of this, though she was painfully aware of how at home she felt in Draco's arms.

She looked up at him with her big doe eyes and Draco swore that his heart stopped beating.

"Who are you?", she pleaded, her eyes full of unanswered questions.

"A memory best forgotten." he whispered, pulling away from her and walking briskly out of the Great Hall. Hermione stayed standing there, as though she were rooted in place, until the doors closed behind the mysterious blond Slytherin. Viktor walked back over to his date and pulled her back to him, finishing the slow song that Draco and her had begun.

It didn't feel right.

Hermione wanted to run after the boy.

She didn't believe what he had said.


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed painfully slow for Draco. He couldn't be more confused. Whenever he felt eyes on him, he knew that they were Hermione's, though he didn't dare look. He looked down at the letter in his hands and wished to just give it back to his owl without reading it. He knew that it was a summons.

His father was calling for him. For dark reasons. He could feel the dark magic rolling off of the letter, infused in each touch of ink. Perhaps father had written it in his study, where he often practiced his curses. The paper seemed to be tainted with the magic it had witnessed.

Draco held his breath and ripped the letter open. He was not surprised at the details that the letter held. He was expected to return to the manor for the weekend.

He wondered what was waiting for him there.

Or rather, who.

Draco tucked the letter into his trunk and sought out Blaise. Blaise was the only Slytherin that knew in full what had happened to Hermione. Over the past few months, they had become confidants, and something else that suggested friendship.

He found him in the Slytherin common room, puzzling over what looked like a difficult set of ruins.

"Doing your homework, eh?", Draco said in a voice that suggested that he cared what Blaise was up to, though they both knew different. Draco only sought Blaise out when he needed someone to talk to.

Blaise looked up at his sad excuse for a friend. He gave a curt nod and began to pack the papers into his bag. He stood and walked out of the common room, well aware that Draco was following. He led them out of the dungeons, taking corridors that most students didn't dare travel alone. Eventually the pair found themselves outside, the winter chill attacking their bare skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

"What is it?", Blaise questioned, his words barely a whisper, as though he feared the wind would pick it up carry it away. His words were not meant to sound harsh, though that didn't soothe Draco's ice-cold heart. He felt like a burden, for this boy had never asked to be imposed upon in such a way. He had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Blaise was always too willing to help.

"I fear that he's rising."

Blaise's eyes burned. Slytherins were not supposed to fear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but this pair happened to despise him. Draco hated what the ugly creature had done to his family, and Blaise just wasn't one for fighting. He didn't like the idea of the all-powerful wizard rising to power and destroying everything that could be considered pretty and pure.

The boys knew that nothing more needed to be said on the topic, and drifted away from each other. Draco felt better with at least one more person at Hogwarts knowing of the trouble that lay ahead, and Blaise appreciated the information that Draco gave to him. It made him feel more ready to face the days that had yet to come.

Draco's drifting had brought him to a certain lake that's color resembled that of the darkest cloak Draco had ever seen. The surface looked as though it were made by pure glass, for the wind did nothing. Not a ripple nor wave could be seen on the seemingly impenetrable lake.

Without a second thought, Draco picked up a stone and hurled it into the lake. If he was going to be in constant turmoil, the lake may as well be slightly disturbed as well.

He could feel her eyes. This time he chose to look for her. He saw nothing other than gray skies and a lonely castle. No one dared disturb him.

V

Hermione often found peace in the Astronomy Tower. She could just look out at the grounds of the beautiful place that she called home and not be bothered.

As she looked out, she felt the strangest sensation. This was her first winter. This was the ending of a year and a start of her new life.

All at once she found herself being drawn to the lake. Her eyes rested on a head of pale blond hair. Almost as though he felt her eyes on him, Draco began to look around, though seemed to give up soon enough. She wished to join him by the dark lake. The rippling surface looked so disturbing. She wished it would freeze, so she could safely look into its depths. She missed the holidays and festivities. Her parents had accepted this new person with open arms, and almost seemed relieved that she was so kind.

It hurt Hermione to think that she was once bad, or perhaps that wasn't the right word. Her eyes hadn't stopped watching Draco since she first caught sight of him. She hoped that she was at least a good friend to him.

Perhaps that was why he ignored her so.

Perhaps she was the reason he was so cold.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

Hermione could go on for hours, but it wouldn't change anything. She wasn't learning anything by asking herself these pointless questions. Her memory would never come back, and she would have to live with that.

Hermione slid off the ledge that she had been seated on, and ran down the stairs and out of the tower. Her cloak billowed out behind her as she scurried down the corridors, steering clear of other students. She was in no mood to chat.

Once her feet hit the cold hard ground, Hermione stopped running. She didn't want to seem too eager to be in his company. She wished to stay cool.

Well, as cool as her bushy haired know-it-all self allowed.

Draco heard her walking towards him. He could feel her presence nearing. Smell her scent that the wind seemed to carry over to him. Tulips and fresh parchment.

"I'm sorry.", she said in a small voice. Draco turned around, a look of pure shock on his face, though he quickly masked it. He felt his mouth open and close, the words just weren't forming. He knew that he must look absolutely ridiculous, but he couldn't get over the fact that Hermione looked absolutely beautiful with her mess of hair blowing around her face, framing it perfectly.

Hermione looked Draco in the eyes and was startled by the color. She often heard Harry complain about his cold steel eyed enemy, but she was sure that he must be mistaken. Draco's eyes were the color of warm silver. In a strange way, they reminded her of hot chocolate.

"Was I a bad friend to you?", she asked, unaware that Draco's heart had just taken off.

"No. You were the best. Amazing. Splendid. No one compared.", Draco found that he just couldn't stop talking. He wanted to spill his heart out to this stranger of a witch. He knew so many things about her, but at the same time he knew nothing. Was her favorite color still a dark peppermint green? Did she still wish to be a Healer?

"Why are you standing out here all by yourself?"

Draco considered her question. Did he answer her truthfully and risk embarrassment, or lie to her and risk losing the trust that she seemed to have for him?

He chose embarrassment.

"When I feel troubled, I like to come out here and throw rocks into the lake. It isn't fair that I'm the only one that's in turmoil. This lake is the most peaceful thing I've ever come across. I envy it.", he ended with a sigh, his eyes turning back to the glassy surface of the lake.

"Did I ever come and throw stones with you?"

"No. I didn't start doing this until after you lost your memories."

"Why not?", Hermione's breathing began to become labored. She felt like she was on the verge of learning something important. The more she learned about this warm eyed Slytherin, the more at home she felt in this foreign mind.

"Because things were great and amazing and easy!", he yelled, hurling another stone into the water, "I didn't have these problems before." Draco's eyes turned to Hermione and knew that he had said too much. This new sympathetic Hermione would blame herself for Draco's turmoil.

"This isn't your fault.", Draco whispered, running a hand through his hair. He was tired and stressed, but that gave him no right to worry Hermione so.

"Then whose fault is it?", Hermione asked, tears building up in her eyes. She didn't know why she was feeling so emotional. She didn't even know this boy, though he obviously knew her.

"My damned fathers."

VV


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione wished to chat with Draco forever. They had ended up sitting by that glass like lake for hours, until hunger had driven them inside. Draco knew that he was taking a huge risk speaking so openly with Hermione, but he couldn't help it. She intoxicated him.

They arrived at the Great Hall and Hermione felt herself instinctively walking towards the Slytherin table. She knew that the spot that she used to occupy had not been filled. It felt natural to walk this route. It wasn't until Draco had grabbed her hand that she realized where she had gone.

"Hermione, your house table is over there.", he said, pointing over to where Harry and Ron sat open-mouthed. Draco's head hung low, partly because he hoped to not be sighted, and because he felt embarrassed for the girl. He was very aware that multiple Slytherin students were glaring at her. She no longer had a place at their table.

Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco's, and then to their intertwined hands. She pulled herself away, and walked towards her new spot at the Gryffindor table.

Ron's face was a color that reminded her slightly of pomegranates.

"Why were you talking to him?", Ron asked in a rather accusing tone. Hermione's face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. She wasn't sure why she was so embarrassed. She could talk to whoever she damn well pleased.

"Bugger off, Ronald Weasley.", she growled, picking up a bun and tossing it lightly towards his face. He, to Hermione's disdain, caught it before it his face.

Ron and Harry shared a look. Hermione was beginning to act how she used to. They had talked about this peculiar subject before, but they had no evidence. She just felt different to them.

Harry assumed it was because of all the time she had spent with Malfoy.

Ron assumed that the slimy git had cursed her somehow, changing nice-Hermione back into mean-Hermione.

"I don't like you hanging around him, 'Mione.", Harry said in a low voice. His eyes looked dangerously dark, and Hermione noticed that the playful smile that normally graced Harry's face was replaced by a scowl.

"He can tell me things that you two can't. He knows me. He knows what I'm like.", the girl pleaded. Her eyes shined with a determination that startled Harry. He had never seen this side of Hermione.

Ron shot up, his face once again pomegranate red. "He knows what you used to be like! You're not that person anymore!"

Harry pulled Ron back down and glared at him. The entire hall had gone quiet, and all eyes were on the trio.

"I suggest that you take more time in thinking about what you're going to say before opening up your mouth.", Hermione growled. She grabbed a bun and briskly walked out of the hall. All eyes were on her back, and the whispers didn't start until well after the doors had closed behind her.

"Why must you make a mess of everything?", Harry groaned, jumping from his seat and chasing down a certain angry witch.

He was certain that some things would always stay the same, which was why he knew that he would find her in the library. He had half a mind to run down the corridors like a madman, but didn't really want to make more of a fool out of himself than he already had.

By the time Harry had made it to the library, Hermione had already calmed herself down. The book that she had chosen to read was quite fitting for her predicament. 'How to Forget Anger'. It was written by a muggle author that she had never heard of, and found most of the teachings hilarious.

'Take ten deep breaths and lay on your back until the anger subsides. Drink plenty of water, and put on something nice, because you deserve to feel nice!'

She felt like this was something a middle-aged woman should be reading after being dumped. Hermione closed the book and placed it back on the shelf with a chuckle, only then did she notice Harry's presence.

"Can I help you?", she said in a slow and lazy voice, one that Harry was all too familiar with. He felt tongue-tied. Who was this sarcastic witch standing before him? The old Hermione had been all sarcastic comments and raised eyebrows, the girl before him was just plain mean.

"Have you lost your mind?", he spat.

"No, just my memory.", Hermione spat back, advancing toward him. She stood a good two inches shorter than him, but knew that she could out hex him any day. Harry was also painfully aware of that truth as he glowered down at her. He couldn't help himself. He was angry and she was acting like a spoiled brat. He almost wished that he were in Malfoy's company instead of hers.

"Just because you lost parts of your memory does not mean you can act like a child that hasn't gotten her way!", Harry shouted, momentarily forgetting that they were in a library.

"My memory was taken from me. I didn't ask for it, I didn't volunteer!", she snarled, her eyes burning with anger and sadness. She lost so much of who she was and she wasn't happy about it. It wasn't fair that she was expected to be okay with something like that.

"You're starting to get on my nerves, Granger.", Harry growled.

"So we're doing last names now, eh Potter?"

"You're worse than Malfoy."

"Draco isn't bad.", Hermione seethed. Harry let out a yelp as he felt Hermione's wand pressed against his neck. This had escalated too quickly. This was Hermione, nice Hermione that had lost more than she had won. The girl who smelled like tulips and fresh parchment, that had teased him endlessly about copying her Potions notes.

"Hermione, put your wand down now."

Harry and Hermione both turned to see a calm and collected looking Draco Malfoy, his wand trained on Hermione. He wasn't wearing his infamous smirk, and Hermione now saw a coldness in his eyes that shone with seriousness. He was not messing around.

Hermione took a step away from Harry, lowering her wand. Her eyes stayed on his, silently warning him to not mess with her again. Harry nodded, a pathetic frown adorning his face.

"We'll talk later.", Harry said. The promise hung between them, and the intensity of the moment was not lost on Draco.

Harry broke eye contact first, and walked briskly from the library.

Hermione's eyes turned to the wand down in her hand. She was sure that had Draco not stepped in, she would have hurt Harry. The anger still burned in her veins, though now it was mixed with a sort of shame. She was embarrassed that Draco had seen her like that.

"I'm horrible.", Hermione whispered, malice clinging to every word. She dropped her wand to the ground and sat down rather ungracefully. Draco sighed, and kneeled down next to her.

"Not horrible, just confused.", he said in a soothing voice. His hands went to her hair and he smoothed down the vicious curls. His heart went out to the poor girl. Perhaps what he was doing to her was more dangerous than his father would ever be.

He was driving her mad.

"I feel so ashamed.", Hermione cried, her head falling into her hands. Draco hushed her and reassuringly rubbed her back.

"Things will get better. I promise.", he soothed, taking her face into his hands. The scared girl nodded in agreement, and a sad smile began to take shape on her lovely face. Draco released her face and left her there to think. He had done enough.

Hermione looked that her hands and counted her fingers. She felt her face and confirmed that she still had two eyes, two ears, a nose, and a mouth. She had two arms and two legs. She had ten toes.

If you were to look at her, you wouldn't think that Hermione Granger was missing anything. Unless you took note of the panicked look in her eyes.

She was missing a past.

_I'd rather be missing a finger or a toe_, Hermione thought to herself, smiling at the thought of having a choice in whether she would lose her memory.

At that very moment, though, she had no idea if she wanted to know who she used to be.


	6. Chapter 6

Sleep never seemed to come to Draco when he needed it the most. So much had changed in such a short period. He would soon be back at the manor. It scared him to think about how chaotic the wizarding world was. There had been death, resurrection, glory, and the Boy-Who-Lived lived twice.

He didn't know much about the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he wasn't sure if he wanted too. Draco could feel the darkness in the air.

What he did know, though, is that the boy glory Harry Potter lived through yet another encounter with the Dark Lord, though his friend Cedric did not. This madness had caused the uproar, which he supposed is exactly what the Dark Lord had wanted.

Hermione knew more than Draco did. She knew what had happened in the graveyard, how Cedric had died, and how Harry had gotten out alive. She could hardly believe it. She had all but forgotten about this mysterious Dark Lord, and had Harry's scar not constantly reminded her of the horrid beast of a man, she probably wouldn't have put much thought into it.

It took all of Hermione's time and energy to find out what exactly had been going on in the wizarding world for the last sixteen years. She missed duels, classes, and the destruction of a Horcrux. She had no recollection of all the snide comments she used to make, or that she actually used to pride herself in looking her best.

She often found her mind wandering off without her permission.

She often found herself thinking about Draco.

Hermione felt a pull to him that she couldn't put into words. He was daft, rude, and a real arse when he put his mind to it.

But he also treated her as though he would break her. He was caring, had this burning passion that you could see in his eyes, and seemed to know so much more than he let on.

It drove her crazy that he seemed to avoid her as much as he possibly could, but when they did interact, act as though he never wanted to leave.

Hermione often had flashes of cruelty. It was hard to her to deal with being two different people. Those flashes of clarity drove her over the edge, simply because she didn't want to be that person anymore.

She wanted to be the bushy haired brainiac that she thought she was.

She had morals, emotions, and a new life.

She wished that the forgotten past didn't even exist. She wished that what she could remember was all that there was to her.

"Hermione, you haven't said a word in over twenty minutes and there isn't even a book in front of you. What on earth could be occupying your mind?", Harry wondered, looking at her from across the table. Hermione didn't even remember coming down for breakfast. Her mind was still analyzing everything that Draco had said to her when they last talked.

She worried that he didn't like this new Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just tired.", Hermione smiled sadly, knowing that her friend would easily see through her lie. Harry's eyes glowed with a certain frustration, but he didn't push the conversation.

Things had been tense lately. Hermione and Ron noticed the way Harry would never stop moving, always on the lookout. Voldemort's return worried them just as much as the next witch/wizard, but they knew that there was no where that was more safe than Hogwarts.

"Have you been sleeping well?", Hermione whispered to Harry, though she already knew the answer. The bags under his eyes were clear, as though he hadn't even bothered to hide them.

"I take it you already know that answer to that question, just as you always do.", Harry laughed, though there was a sad sort of ring to it. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and his hair seemed to cover them in a rather dark manner.

Hermione worried for her friends happiness.

Draco, however, was getting a tad fed up with Potter. It was hard to watch the one you love give their affection to another, even if it was just in a platonic way. He often wondered if Hermione ever thought of him in a friendly way, or if she couldn't care less about his feelings.

He stood from his table and was surprised when he saw Hermione watching him. He broke eye contact and almost ran out of the Great Hall. He could feel her eyes on his back.

Draco found himself wishing that she would follow him.

To his dismay, she didn't.

V

The library was slowly becoming Hermione's second home. She found that more often than not, she would learn something that would forever change the way she saw the world with every visit to the library.

Though she did have some tainted memories of this second home. She often passed the shelves where she and Harry had their little spat. If you could call her attacking him a little spat...

It pulled her in. That spot. She seemed to gravitate towards it.

Hermione shook her head when she realized why she had come to the library. She had hoped that Draco would find her here, as he always did. They never spoke anywhere else.

She wondered if he was embarrassed to be talking to a mentally unstable Gryffindor. Or maybe the Gryffindor part was enough.

Hermione's hands brushed the spines of the books closest to her and closed her eyes. Draco felt a sigh escape his lips at the sight of her, and she visibly stiffened. He had gone and blown his cover. She knew he was there. She always knew.

Hermione dropped her arms and turned her head just enough to see the pale blond boy out of the corner of her eye. Her lips twitched up into a smile and she felt like laughing.

"I'd like it if you would owl me over the summer.", Draco said, his eyes on his hands. He missed Hermione's shocked expression, for she could not believe that the boy that avoided her like the plague wanted to keep in contact.

"I will.", she sighed. You could hear her smile in her voice. It rang with excitement and pure joy, though she had not spoken louder than a whisper.

"It's dangerous to be around me." It was hard for Draco to admit that to himself, let alone Hermione, but it had to be done. He wouldn't have her taking any unnecessary risks unless she wanted to know him as much as he wished to know her.

"I don't see how dangerous you could be.", Hermione said, a challenge in her voice. She looked over at the slightly shaken boy and took a step closer to him. And then another step. And then another! Their faces were within inches of each other, and neither dared move.

"You don't know what kind of game you're playing, Hermione.", he breathed, trying to slow his thundering heart. He hoped that she couldn't hear his nervousness in his voice, though he suspected that she could.

"Just be quite.", Hermione purred. She leaned in and their noses were touching. The physical contact chilled her to the bone.

"Stop. Now.", Draco barked, jumping away from her. "You don't understand what kind of world that we live in. You know nothing about me, and even less about yourself. Have you ever tried to figure out what it was that made you lose your memory? Have you ever considered that I might have had a part in that?" Draco was yelling now. He hated yelling, mostly when he was in a place as sacred as the library, but this girl wasn't getting it. He could hurt and endanger her in ways that no one else could.

Even so, his heart still broke into a million pieces when he saw that Hermione had started crying. He wished for nothing more than to wipe those tears away, but he had shown this Gryffindor girl too much kindness. He was a Malfoy. They didn't wipe away the tears of muggle-borns, let alone converse with them in libraries.

V

Hermione Granger had failed her Potions exam. The first potion exam of the year, to be exact. It wasn't because her partner had been less than cooperative, or because she didn't know how to make the potion.

Hermione Granger failed her Potions exam because she didn't care.

She was lonely, crabby, scared, and most of all, tired. She was tired of the way people looked at her. She was tired of feeling like an infant. She was tired of how Ron and Harry had expected her to write to them every week, and would only write to her if she didn't write. She was tired of the way Draco Malfoy glared at her. She was tired. Bone tired.

Hermione tromped up to towards Gryffindor tower. She hardly even acknowledged the fat lady, who, as misguided as she may be, was trying to cheer up the poor girl.

Shoulders slumped forward, Hermione drug herself up the stairs.

She collapsed onto her bed, not even bothering to close the shades around her four poster bed.

No one had ever seen Hermione Granger so utterly defeated.

VV

Draco found that he now had a renewed purpose in life. There was a skip to his step, though deep, deep inside, he knew that it was all an act. A good act, though. He was good at fooling others, but his true power laid in the fact that he was an expert at fooling himself. He had spent the weekend brooding, but that wasn't really out of the ordinary. The things that baffled him, and others had they found out, is that not a day went by that he didn't think about that insufferable muggle-born. He missed her. He could feel it in every step that he took, every slow beat of his heart.

He had tried to pretend that what he felt was something other than longing; he would sneer when her name was brought up, pretend as though he was over the muggle-born like a bad case of the flu. It was like a protective suit of armor. He dug his nails into his palms, determined to think of other things.

He would prefer to be tortured than to be plagued with one more thought of Hermione Granger and how sad her eyes looked. He would forget about her slumped shoulders, and the ache he felt when he saw her in pain. He would forget these things, whether he liked it or not.

Because running down the hall was an angry, deranged Harry Potter.

"Obliviate!"


	7. Chapter 7

Madam Pomfrey had never once dreamed that she would see Harry Potter carry Draco Malfoy into her office. She was not sure what to make of the incident, though she knew that there was reason to worry. She immediately rushed over to the boy, leading him to a cot where he could set Draco.

"What happened?", she breathed, looking down at the still boy. She checked for a pulse and was relieved to find that the blond-haired boy was still alive. Her eyes drifted over to Harry, who remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Mister Potter, what did you do?"

"He doesn't deserve to think of Hermione."

"That wasn't your choice to make." Harry had never heard Madam Pomfrey yell, or show any kind of anger. This sudden outburst startled him. He could sense the anger rolling off of her, and instinctively took a step away from the medi-witch.

"You've meddled enough.", she hissed, pushing him out of the room. Closing the door behind her tightly, she reproached the unconscious boy. "You certainly have had a tough year."

With a sigh, she left the boy to sleep. There was nothing she could do.

She silently reminded herself to contact Dumbledore. As much as she enjoyed Mister Potter, this was not going to go without result.

V

Dumbledore stood at the front of the Great Hall. All attention was on him, for no one would dare disrespect the Head Master.

"Recently the Obliviation charm has been used in ways to hurt students. Until further notice, any use of this charm will result in immediate expulsion. No exceptions." The old wizards voice sounded strained. There was no way that any student would miss the intensity of the moment.

Draco Malfoy stared up from his spot at the Slytherin table with a grim look on his face. He had been fortunate that Potter was no genius with charms and that no real memory loss had occurred, though he was left with a pounding headache and a sense of confusion. No matter what he did, it just seemed wrong. He always felt like he should be walking the opposite direction, or adding a different ingredient to a potion.

It made things more difficult than they already were. He would think about Hermione, feel how wrong it was to be thinking about her, and think about how right it would be to talk to her. But he couldn't do that.

Draco's eyes traveled over to the Gryffindor table, honing in on the back of Hermione's head. It felt right to look at her. He assumed that anything that had to do with Hermione would feel right.

VV

Hermione could feel his eyes on her through dinner, but her eyes stayed glued onto Harrys. They had been in an intense staring contest for upwards of ten minutes now. Since his butt had touched the hard wood bench, Hermiones eyes had captured them. In the beginning, it was as though they were communicating silently though various nods of the head. Now, however, Hermiones face was unreadable, and Harry started to squirm. He knew that she knew what he had done. And he had a pretty good idea what she thought of it.

Hermione had decided that she was gone playing this game with Harry. Holding his eyes as she stood, she slowly and deliberately left the Great Hall.

She found that she didn't know where her feet were taking her until she arrived on the Seventh floor and raced to the left corridor.

_I need a place to remember. _She thought quietly, repeating it to herself until the door materialized. Hermione placed her hand on the handle and exhaled. She could already feel fatigue taking over. Carefully, she opened the door and gingerly stepped into the newly imagined room.

It was darker than expected, lit only by the roaring fireplace. It seemed as though the room had hastily been thrown together, as there was paper all over the floor, and a couch was upturned. One silver couch sat in the center, looking untouched. Hermione walked slowly to it, wondering why _this _room had been conjured. What was she supposed to take away from this? What was the room trying to tell her?

Draco stepped into a similar room, though it was much more pristine. The fire roared, and the silver couch he often found solace in stood alone. He went to it and began to wonder what life would be like if Potter had succeeded in Obliviating him.

As pathetic as he knew it was, he began to wish for a life with no memory.

Two people sat in nearly identical rooms, thinking about nearly identical topics.

But they had ever felt more alone.

V

Hermione eventually returned to her common room. The room did nothing to solve the mystery that was her mind, but she found a certain solace in the contained disarray that the room contained. Hermione sat on one of the many couches in her common room, and soon enough felt the couch sag a little as someone sat next to her.

"I'm sorry.", Harry whispered, not looking at Hermione, full well knowing that he would crumble if he were captured in her gaze again.

"I don't understand you, Harry Potter. I don't understand myself either, but I understand you even less.", Hermione sighed, finally catching his eye and giving him a resigned smile. There was still tension between the pair, but that did not deter Harry from putting an arm around her, and Hermione leaning into his comfort. Perhaps there was something about this boy that she could understand.

He was kind.

She thought she was kind too. But perhaps not. Perhaps she was nothing.

"Harry.", Hermione whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Of all the things in the world, the only thing that I want to know is the one thing that no one can tell me."

"And what is that?", he said in a quiet voice, barely audible.

"I want to know if I was happy with who I was.", Hermione whispered back, her voice no louder than that on a pin dropping to the floor, "Maybe if I knew that, moving on would be easier."

"I don't know if you liked yourself. But I know that you were liked by many.", Harry sighed. The girl seated beside him was pathetic, and he did not mean that in a demeaning way. Simply that she had lost something that she could never get back, and it was hard to watch her muddle through the aftermath.

"I have been thinking about trying to break the memory charm.", Hermione said, mostly to herself. She missed Harry's shocked expression. The only way to break memory charms was through attacking the psyche so thoroughly that the charm broke. One of the only known ways to do such a thing was through torture. It would destroy her spirit.

"Hermione, you must be joking."

"Oh, Harry, I wish I was."


End file.
